Tragic Happiness
by TurtleHeart
Summary: Blackbeard and Jack are poisoned with the sword upon the Fountain of Youth.  Angelica cannot save them both. The man who caused her happiness will be given the years of the one who caused her suffering.  But which?
1. Beautiful Tragedy

**A Note from TurtleHeart: first of all, i've got nothing to prove i own PotC but an idea for an alternate ending to On Stranger Tides.**

* * *

><p><strong>Tragic Happiness<strong>

**-Beautiful Tragedy-  
><strong>

And then it happened all at once. Edward Teach, Blackbeard, the pirate all pirates feared, fell. Poisoned he was. Poisoned with a scratch on his hand. Poisoned with the very blade through his belly. Blackbeard had fallen by the hands of the one legged man as the prophecy stated.

Marines loyal to King George and his Crowned Kingdom looked on with awe. The man who lay dying before them was a man who was Lucifer himself upon Earth. His mighty reign ended with an "old man's hobby". Just like that, the man that had been wanted for months was there before them dying. Countless expeditions. Countless ships. Countless sums of money. Countless hours of planning. All for the glorious moment of Blackbeard's death. The man caused more pain and suffering than any soul on Earth, for his soul was not of Earth. His soul was from the very center of Hell itself and his soul was going back to where it belonged. Justice.

Men under the Brethren of the Coast stood silent and watchful. The man who was said to have his head severed from his body and the body that swam around the ship three times only to climb back on deck, the man who was said to be immortal was lying before them dying. A painful reality it was to watch a man believed to be immortal dying. All men die. The hard truth of it was before them.

He did not understand why, but part of him felt mournful. He was one of the souls wanting Blackbeard dead. Perhaps, his feelings of mourning were simply because Blackbeard was the mightiest of all mighty pirates, far better of a pirate than him. A good man no. But a pirate, Blackbeard was every definition of the thought pirate. Cunning. Ruthless. Pillaging. Frightening. Murderous. Fascinating. Tempting. Yes, even envious fell into his name. What man did not envy Blackbeard? He was a man who was loved and hated. Feared and admired. Immortal nearly. _Nearly_.

Jack Sparrow lowered his eyes for a moment of mourning. He felt it appropriate. A member of the Brethren of the Coast he was and therefore did deserve some credit at that.

Sudden movement before him caused him to turn his gaze. "Angelica, don't!" he cried rushing forward knowing her thoughts. "It's poisoned!"

Fear compelled him to move quicker. Fear he had forgotten he possessed in the form of love caused him to wrap his long, slender fingers around her arms and pull her back just as she began to kneel before the fallen man. She struggled to free herself in his grasp.

"Angelica, the blade is poisoned," Jack told her.

Playing every card she had, Angelica struggled against her captor who attempted to pull her away. She was a ravenous animal, a wild beast as she bit and scratched and kicked. Her captor would not take her away from her kin. She did not believe Jack. He wanted her father dead and she could save him. All she had to do was pull the sword from his flesh and bone and return him to the _Queen Anne's Revenge_. There, she would stitch his wound and bandage him and nurse him back to health. She would have a father in her life. She _would_.

Screaming in frustration, Angelica finally pulled from Jack after the heel of her boot flattened against Jack's stomach. She fell to her knees.

"Father," she whispered.

One palm pressed onto her father's shoulder and four fingers and a thumb curled around the hilt of the sword causing him his pain and anguish. Surely she knew there was no quicker and painless method of removing a blade from a body than simply pulling as quickly as possible and she did.

"Shh. Shh," she calmed her distressed father.

"My child," said Blackbeard.

Angelica set the sword on the rock beside her father. She smiled through her tears. Both hands were placed upon her father's cheeks. Her thumbs gently caressed his cheekbone. She loved looking into his eyes. His eyes themselves were a hurricane during a typhoon in the wickedest sea there was. Such changing color, yet beauty. His eyes were bright, the only brightness upon his person. They shinned like the full moon after a storm.

"Angelica," Jack's voice softly called. "He cannot be saved. The chalices are gone."

The young woman shook her head. She would not allow herself to believe him. She _would_ have a father. She _would_.

"Sparrow," Blackbeard called.

"Yes?" Jack inquired.

"Come closer lad," Blackbeard softly said.

Accepting his summoning for matters of curiosity and wonder, Jack leaned forward.

"I did not make it to the Fountain," stated Blackbeard. "And neither did you."

Jack breathed through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. His forearm. The center of is right forearm burned with a thousand hot knives. The feeling was not of simple sharpened metal cutting through flesh. No, it was much more painful than that. His arm went numb with pain nearly instantly. He felt every drop of blood within his arm boil and bubble, carrying the poisonous substance to his heart where his heart would distribute poison throughout his body for the next few minutes until he was dead.

Calming himself, he inhaled deeply and exhaled just as deep. The calmer he kept his heart the longer he would have. He turned to Angelica and awkwardly smiled.

Angelica shook her head. Her body trembled. She was unable to move. No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to happen. Her father was dying not Jack Sparrow. Yet, she continued to look upon him. She watched him gingerly take hold of his right arm. Gently, he moved his right arm above his head to rest the underside of his forearm on the center of his head. He swallowed hard and breathed through his nose. His eyes squeezed shut suddenly. When they opened, they turned to her. Were those tears in his eyes? Was that fear in his eyes?

"Jack," she whispered.

"Help," was his only word as softly spoken as a prayer.

Driven by fear of losing the two men she loved, she pushed herself onto her feet. The chalices. She saw the chalices somewhere around the right of the Fountain. Desperately, she dropped to her knees. Her trembling hands fumbled through the water, groping all things smooth.

Jack sat on the broken platform beside Blackbeard fighting himself to keep his arm above his head. Blood couldn't work its way through his arm as quickly; it had to work against gravity. The burning was becoming something much worse, something much fiercer than he ever felt. He once believed the white hot brand marking him a pirate was torturous pain. He felt his flesh sizzling beneath his skin and burning away. Presently, that seemed like a simple sunburn. Bullets ripping apart his flesh and cracking bones were a simple scratch compared to what he was feeling then.

The poison was something different, something fierce. With every beat of his slowly quickening heart, he felt surging pain soar through the cut on his forearm. His eyes were falling shut as his mind was going through shock. His arm was burning and cutting into him. He felt each little cell keeping his skin intact being eaten away by the poison. The teeth ripped at him after clawing into his skin.

And it happened. A god awful, horrible sound echoed through the cavern. A concussive thud erupted from the fallen rock. Pieces of rock from marble size to boulder fell and rolled. Water splashed upward into the air then rained down upon them.

No soul spoke. No soul moved. All eyes were upon the destroyed legend. The Fountain of Youth, Aqua de Vida itself, a common children's tale, a sailor's legend, crumbled before them. The unholy temple was destroyed. The gift of immortal years rained down upon them. Once beauty was now lost. Magic of the fountain crumbled.

Nothingness ensued.

Surrendering, Jack felt himself falling through darkness and hitting hard at the fate that awaited him. So this was his fate. He was to die upon the crumbled pillars before the Fountain of Youth, cringing and whimpering from the pain so unfairly given to him. All of a sudden he couldn't breathe. Raising his heartbeat too quickly, he gasped in breaths as quickly as he could take them. He was lying on his right side with his right arm out before him. His head was laying on his bicep. His legs curled, the right bent beneath the left. There was no greater desire in him than for the pain to end. He whimpered and thrashed about, his legs curling and uncurling and his fingers on his left hand groped the rock.

A dark shadow settled itself clumsily beside him. The lankly figured reached forward and he felt some comfort. A withered, trembling hand caressed his hairline and back down his head. The other hand reached for his left hand and tightly held.

Jack squeezed the hand. His small measure of peace and comfort ended. The poison was moving to his heart. Coughing he gasped for air and cried out. He whimpered again and shifted uncomfortably. He could not stop thrashing about, he was dying a painful death and the stabbing, acidic burn ate every portion of his flesh and very bone.

"Hurry!" Barbossa yelled from Jack's side, his attention on Angelica full well knowing her quest.

Emotion having controlled her completely, Angelica could not move her hands. Her body and every bone inside of her trembled. She was unable to breathe. Unable to move. She could not move. The Fountain was destroyed. The chalices were lost. Jack Sparrow was dying before her eyes and her father was beside him suffering. She wept before the water. Her reflection was looking back upon her with failure and misery. Prayers were spoken off of her tear moistened lips. Prayers for an easier passage for both her father and Jack.

Through the water and her reflection she saw what she prayed. She saw the chalices rising toward her. Her tears covered her eyes as her head lowered. It was not true. The pools surrounding the crumbled rock ran deep. With her eyes closed she continued to see the misshapen circle mouths forming a partly shattered cup connecting to the base. Aqua de Vida they spelled together. Water of Life was there purpose.

A small ting, like metal on rock caused her to open her eyes. Through the overcast of tears, she saw the misshapen circle mouths forming a partly shattered cup connecting to the base. The words Aqua de Vida faced her.

"Do not waste my tear."

Angelica blinked and raised her head further. Syrena gave a nod of her head and then whipped back into the deep pools.

Driven by madness and compelled by adrenaline, Angelica flew across the ruble searching for something. Just a few drops. She needed nothing more than a few drops of water dripping from the Fountain. All she truly needed was a single drop. Desperately, she circled the rubble to locate where the center once was. Then she heard the sound. Beyond the struggled, pained cries of the men she loved she heard water droplets.

Time stood still as she watched droplets pulled by gravity and fall through air itself magnifying all behind it. Ultimately, it contacted another object. Weaker than that object, the single droplet became several, bouncing upward as if it was its own miniature fountain. The individual droplets formed from the larger single droplet danced outward in all directions.

With time still standing nonexistent to her clock, Angelica reached outward with one chalice collecting a few drops and then the other. One chalice contained seven drops and the other just two, one more than was needed and plenty for her task.

Half the task through, she flew over rubble again and fell between the men.

The chalices were set between the men equal distance from each other. She did not recall reaching into Jack's pocket and procuring the tear. Instead her eyes saw the tear that glistened in the vile.

"Ye must choose lass. Ye must choose one of them," she heard someone say hastily.

Choose one of them. But which?

Her father lay nearly absolutely still. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He was lying on his side by the torso and his legs were lying flat. Although his pale face and eyes were facing the young man before him, he did not see them. They gazed beyond him toward his daughter pleadingly.

He was her father. She always wanted a father. Her reasoning for disguising herself as Jack Sparrow was to gain Jack Sparrow's attention himself to lure him in. Jack knew what she did not. Jack knew where everything was. Jack knew how to get it all for her. All she wanted was a family. Her mother died when she was barely old enough to remember her and she was forced to live her life under the will of the Spanish Convent. A father should have been a simple request to fulfill. Everyone had a father. Jack had a father so why couldn't she? She cared not that her father was a creation of the Devil. She cared not who she killed if he dared attempt take her father away from her. She hated all men who attempted to kill her father.

Yet, he angered her more greatly than any man had ever done. She watched him torture innocent lives of men simply to keep a reputation of being Lucifer's child alive. He caused men suffering anguish for his own pleasure. No man alive should have caused more suffering than he did. She hated him for his love of pain. A man should not have delighted listening to sailors suffering screams or watch them die slowly. He cared not of a man's suffering so long as he enjoyed himself.

There was good in him. She knew there was. All she wanted was to feel his hand against her cheek and his arms around her. The few times she felt him love her and smile while looking upon her, made life worthwhile again. She had seen what they did not. He was a bad man but a good father. He had to have been a good father. It was only after she mentioned Jack knowing the location of the Fountain of Youth did he truly turn evil. The incident with the five loaded pistols among the seven was mishap. She knew he did not know which two had the shots removed, but surely he would have not killed her. She knew there was desperation in his eyes. He wanted to live.

As she looked on him, he was eyeing the chalice closest to him. A smile looked back up at her from his bloodied lips. Blackbeard, her father, was smiling. She had to smile back at him through her tears.

"Angelica," Jack's voice called distantly. He spoke through his gasps and pain. "Choose him. Take my years. Be happy with your father. Can't have both. Just want you happy."

And then Angelica turned her head to Jack Sparrow. He was lying in the arms of his Navy friend. His face was not white, but a ghastly pale blue. Red rings rimmed his eyes like his famous kohl. His skin appeared paper thin. The cut on his arm was bleeding bright black. The convulsions ceased at last save for the occasional spasm. He was choking and struggling to breathe as though a hand was around his throat. She saw the vein in his neck thrashing fatally swift.

Jack was her love. He stumbled upon her and ruined her life, as she was exiled from the Convent after being seen sneaking with him. All she did that day was hide him from the men he was running from. To repay her for his misdeeds, he took her on a ship and showed her the world. He taught her everything he knew to protect her from the evils of the world. They were in love. They loved each other once, long ago. She recalled the many nights she sat in his arms kissing and feeling. Never did they go as far as each other's bed, but they came close. All he ever wanted was for her happiness.

Breaking her heart killed her. She never let herself love again or allowed emotion to come forth. She taught herself to be a heartless cur. Jack Sparrow once asked her to marry him. She was just out of her teenage years and he dropped to a knee and asked her. Since she was barely a teenager the two of them had been off and on and he proposed. Yet, on their wedding day, he changed his mind and was never seen again when she turned her back. He wounded her to the core and finding her father was the happiness that begun to mend her heart. All Jack's teachings were turned against him. She vowed she would cut out Jack's heart or cause him as much suffering pain as she had been through. Hate was the word she associated with Jack Sparrow.

But she saw it killed him too. His eyes were moist as he told her he couldn't marry her. There was love still there between them. When Jack was hauled back to the ship after the dart poisoned him unconscious, she saw the lace around his arm. He had no time to secure the lace around his arm from discovering she was him until he fell unconscious. So, all that time in between their departure and meeting, he kept the lace around his wrist. Still, right there before her, Jack wanted her happiness. He told her to use his years for her father if it made her happy.

Who made her happy? She had never been happy and Jack knew it.

The man who caused her happiness would be given the years of the one who caused her suffering. But which?

Simultaneously, both men gagged and choked. Air was struggled to come through their swelling throats. She watched her father's blue eyes then Jack's brown eyes roll into the back of his head. White foam emerged from both sets of lips, the very cause to their choking; the final threshold of the poisoned death.

"CHOOSE NOW!" Barbossa wailed.

Angelica shut her eyes as she tipped the tear into a chalice. She handed Barbossa one chalice to administer to Jack and she herself lifted her father's head to help him drink.

Barbossa gently cupped the back of Jack's head in the palm of his hand. He raised the young man's head while the other hand pressed the mouth of the chalice to Jack's lips. Knowing Jack did not have strength to swallow, he held Jack's head at the angle that would allow the water to drip down into his mouth. Jack's throat was clogged by the foam, but the liquid nonetheless would be administered into his body one way or another.

The chalice was thrown from his hand. Gently, as if it was his own child, he allowed Jack's body to fall onto the rock bone by bone beginning with his lower back and ending with his head. He took care in removing his hand from the back of Jack's head, yet that hand resumed caressing his hair. Inside, his own heart was thrashing about, as he failed to notice which chalice contained the tear. Silent prayers fell from his lips as his own eyes gazed onto those of Jack's failing eyes.

His own brilliant plan turned against him as usual. When it came to situations of life and death he should have just known to take it into his own mortal matters. Every situation he recalled involving his life ended badly when he brought the unearthly into the deal. He lost his leg, his life on Isla de Muerta, his ship, and now he was losing the one person who felt like his son. Jack had always felt like a son to him. They fought like cats and dogs, but he cared for the boy. He never truly put Jack in harm's way. When taking the _Pearl,_ he always ensured Jack had the fighting chance to come after him. Tortuga was an obvious place to leave Jack. Rumrunner's Island was another obvious choice. Unknown to all including Jack Sparrow himself, Barbossa left Jack there knowing there was the necessities of life and passing ships.

He and Jack locked eyes for a moment. Never once did he think he would see it, but there was always that first for everything. A lone tear emerged from the corner of Jack's left eye. The shimmering crystallized in the pale sunlight. All elements resembling water appeared as crystals in the temple. Jack's tear was the most tragically beautiful of them all. The teary crystal kept on the corner of his eye for a seeming eternity. Gravity took hold and it followed the contour of the side of his face, leaving a crystal tear trail behind.

Barbossa raised his head to the sky with his eyes squeezed shut. He was unsuccessful to prevent the two tears that followed Jack's path, one emerged from both eyes. Never, _never,_ would he forgive himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Slowly and mournfully, his head fell to his chest and eyes opened.

They widened at the spectacle before him.

All at once, color returned to Jack's face as the red rings blended into his normal bronze skin color. It was not just his face painted with bronze; his chest and arm wholly glimmered with life. Right there in the center of his right forearm, the black, poisoned wound healed itself, fading inward until becoming a simple scar.

Jack inhaled a great amount of air and exhaled. As he coughed, thick saliva emerged from his lips. Several great amounts of air were inhaled then exhaled. His head turned to the right.

Angelica continued to hold her father's body against her chest. Her tears were consistently falling from each eye, one after the other. "I'm sorry Father," she whispered.

Not quite dead yet, Blackbeard's eyes shot open as though made of springs. His head turned to the side where he saw Jack Sparrow supporting himself by his right forearm and his left palm planted into the stone, staring back at him wondrously.

"My years?" wondered Blackbeard to his daughter.

"I love him Father. He makes me happy," replied Angelica.

Sudden life coming over him, Blackbeard roared with anger. He shoved his daughter away from his person. Betrayed by his own kind. No, she would not live to be happy. He scrambled for the sword that caused her to choose between his life and Jack Sparrow's. Determined to destroy Jack Sparrow once and for all, he raised the sword above his head.

"Father no!" Angelica pleaded.

However, the pirate was unable to move and the sword fell from his hands. Water rushed in like torrents from a maelstrom.

Angelica turned her head away, burying her face within her arms and the safety of the stone. She curled her legs against herself not bearing to watch the sight of her doing. Listening, she knew it was not just wind and water howling and screaming. Unable to bear the sound, she shrieked and pressed her palms against her ears. Rather than hearing her father's cries of agony, she much rather preferred to listen to her own until there was no breath inside of her.

Dead silence followed the ending resonance of her cries.

Wearily, Angelica raised her head. As if a clock itself, her head turned in increments to peer over her shoulder. Bones. Human bones pulled clean lay in a pile where her father once stood.

Beside those bones, Jack Sparrow turned from the human remains and then to her. He smiled sheepishly at her and pointed to the bones with a trembling finger. "Blackbeard," he announced.

A few awkward laughs passed his lips and his left shoulder shrugged. His gaze met with several faces as he motioned to the bones with the repeated word "Blackbeard". With a moan, his torso fell forward from where he positioned himself on his right side. Altogether, he passed out before his head smacked against the rock.

Angelica's eyes met with Barbossa's.

The only thing Barbossa found himself capable of doing at the moment was giving her an uncomfortable, awkward grin and a shrug of the shoulder.

* * *

><p><strong>A Note from TurtleHeart:<strong>

**you know that feeling you get when you know you shouldn't do it but do it anyway? i just had it. an afternoon nap brought this about and i simply had to write it down. it'll only be a two chapter story, i think, so no worries for lengthiness at that, as i have several stories that require my time.**

**whew, well how's that for an alternate ending? did i at least put a little fright into you? thoughts? comments? likes? dislikes? let me know!**

**Happy Readings!  
><strong>


	2. Dead and Alive

**-Dead and Alive-**

Natural death wasn't as bad as he had always foreseen. Then again, he didn't have a natural death. Instead, he was poisoned by Edward Teach, Blackbeard himself and by the sword of the one person he never thought would kill him. There was a very good reason he didn't like toads, and now he downright despised and hated them. Dead again. The very thought caused him to groan. Since he died on land he knew no one was going come to save him. Since he knew no one was going to save him just because they missed him it wasn't going to be such a deadbeat to his fragile soul. Deadbeat. How appropriate of a word to describe his heart; it was dead and yet beating.

_Beating? _

Jack inhaled deeply and exhaled through his mouth. He felt the blood further flow through his body. Blood was flowing through his body and he felt the pulses from his heart travel with the red liquid. Clearly, he was either alive somehow or dead and already passed on in the next world. The latter was more likely considering he was poisoned with a sword containing the innards of poisoned toads.

He couldn't help the soft groan and wrinkling of his forehead when a cold, damp object was laid across his forehead. It was dreadfully uncomfortable. He turned his head to the side feeling his cheek falling flat into a soft object feeling vaguely like a pillow. Were there pillows in the next world? His eyes opened to a great, fuzzy kaleidoscope. One of the blurs leaned closer and pressed the cold object further into his head.

"Cold," Jack groaned as his hand reached upward to remove the wet object. He groaned again while throwing the object behind him and rolling on his side.

"Thank you."

Jack's eyes snapped open. He knew that voice. He knew that voice very, very well in fact. His head whipped over his shoulder and he witnessed Hector Barbossa setting the rag in a bowl on a table. "I knew it. I'm dead."

"And what makes ye say that?" wondered Barbossa.

"You look like you as you should be and not who you aren't supposed to be," said Jack. He gave Barbossa a quick look over and his eyes narrowed. "I'm not dead am I?"

"Do tell," said Barbossa.

"If I was dead and this was the land of the goody goodies, you wouldn't have that ridiculous feather in your hat," noted Jack.

"It so happens Edward Teach may have took a liking to this ridiculous feather because my hat was found below," said Barbossa.

Hearing his words but not processing them very well, Jack's eyes examined his situation. Other than the most discomforting notion that someone's hands had removed him of all but his breeches and tunic, he happily discovered his effects were lying over a chair or folded neatly in the seat or placed upon the folded cloth neatly in the seat. He himself had be lying on a cot with pillows beneath his head as he thought and a red blanket warming his person to his belly.

Around, he knew he was clearly on a ship. Wooden walls, flooring, and ceiling were evidence. Candles burned from a table beside him and another across the smallish room. A window proved it was nighttime and they were sailing on the sea. He watched as an unlit lantern swung back and forth with the gentle rocking he felt in his bones.

Clearly, he was not on a ship he recalled or in a room he was once in. Wholly, the room presented eerie darkness and death. A small collection of bones piled on the table across from him beside and inkwell complete with a pen. He knew Barbossa was sitting beside him looking on him curiously and a door was partially opened for viewing the adjacent room which was lit a bit more brightly.

Finally, he turned his eyes to Barbossa again. "Where am I?"

"_Queen Anne's Revenge_," replied Barbossa.

"Oh," noted Jack nonchalantly while tucking his right forearm behind his head. His voice hastened. "How did I get here and why am I here?"

"Ye got here by means of being carried," began Barbossa.

"You're stronger than I thought," said Jack.

"Thank ye," said Barbossa with a sarcastic grin to mirror his mocking tone. "No, believe it or not, Angelica swung ye over her shoulder for better part of the returning journey. Now, _she_ is stronger than I thought. Ye are here because ye passed out in the Fountain."

"I would not. Why would I do that?" wondered Jack with all attempt to hide the truth that he knew.

"Perhaps it had something to do with a poisoned blade across yer arm followed by drinking the Water of Life itself and watching your victim fall to bones," replied Barbossa.

"This is all your fault Hector," Jack pointed. "You had to bring a poisoned blade along and I hate toads. I hate them even more now. I'll hate them all the way down or up to wherever it is I am destined after life."

"Ye were the one who _had_ to save the girl," noted Barbossa with a gesture outside the room upon further emphasis of "girl".

"Of course I did," replied Jack simply.

"Why?" inquired Barbossa.

"Because I owe her one or two, but one less now than I did before," said Jack. "What do you care? Blackbeard is dead."

"Aye, that be true and done by my hand," announced Barbossa proudly.

"Ah, technically, it was done by those toads of yours who you viciously murdered for the innards," said Jack with a raised finger. Another thought came across him as he sat himself upward. "Tell me something Hector, did you purposely poison the sword hoping i would somehow come in contact with poison to my blood or did it simply work out to your advantage and then work out to my advantage by whoever it was who gave his years for me."

"I never meant to poison ye, Jack. The blade was meant for Blackbeard's heart only," said Barbossa.

"Unlikely," muttered Jack. "Well, at least we know you have a ship so you won't go stealing mine."

"I'm sorry about the _Pearl_, Jack. She was a good ship," mourned Barbossa.

"She _is_ a good ship mate. She's just a little smaller that's all. She's just a little smaller in terms of sailing in a bottle for eternity," explained Jack with all intention of keeping a cheery disposition across his face and voice. His heart true to his ship and his future beginning, the more he spoke of the _Black Pearl_ in a bottle the more mournful his voice became. "Much to your dismay, I happen to know where my ship is and my ship is not going to be in your hands. You can keep the _Revenge_ by all means. I have no desire whatsoever to have this ship. I mean, you'll probably have every bloody Man O'War on your tail within the week. Seeing as my ship is in a bottle and only one of us may have the bottle at a time and I happen to know where that bottle is at the moment, the _Pearl_ is mine. In fact, I don't think I want to find a way to release her from the bottle. I'll keep her in the bottle and keep her with me so you can't go steal her from me again. If I keep my ship in a bottle it is the only way to keep you from having her then so be it. She's just a ship mate. I'll find a better ship, one more faster and bigger and hugish and grandish.

"Come to think of it, the _Pearl_ was getting old there. She was splintering all over. I never did get those French doors. Wood was rotting. The sails were patched up and the patches were tattering. Towards the end, she didn't feel like she was my ship anymore. I mean, think about it, she's been commissioned for twenty four years. I've technically had her since I was eighteen under the name _Wicked Wench_. That's twenty four years of freedom and looting and pirating and freedom and memories and women and mates and freedom and pain and suffering and agony and fighting and friendship and searching for her and revenge and backstabbing and freedom and saving my life and keeping me somewhat sane and having somewhere to live and something to love and, uh, well, you know, it was time to say goodbye to the real thing. You know, now I can display her proudly for the rest of my life and watch her sailing in the bottle like she always loved to do, except not in a bottle."

Older and wiser than the younger Jack Sparrow, Barbossa saw past the lies of his words. He knew better than anyone the relationship Jack had with the _Black Pearl_. Literally, she was his life and reason for living. To sail her from the helm under the command of his own two hands kept life in his future from his dark, tragic past. Receiving a ship to call his own ten years after his father abandoned him, gave him the home and friendship and family he needed to survive.

Seeing Jack sit there with low, sad eyes all while attempting to look on the bright side that his ship was in a bottle hardly comforted the older pirate. Guilt began eating away at him again. Perhaps, after all, it wasn't best to have mutinied Jack for a ship. Many more lives outside Jack Sparrow's were ruined and his hand was all over it. The temptation was irresistible though. He had to have that ship to seek his revenge. Of course, it might have helped that the person who killed his sister was living to complete sweet revenge, but killing as many marines as possible with a ship resembling his sister's ship was enough to settle.

Though, currently, Jack did put a good thought into his head. Every father, son, brother, uncle, nephew, grandfather, and babe in His Majesty's Royal Navy possessed the word that _Queen Anne's Revenge_ was the top ship to take and sink. Observing they were indeed on _Queen Anne's Revenge_, Barbossa considered into his brilliantly miscalculated plans that taking Blackbeard's own ship after murdering him may not have been the wisest idea, for if they were captured and hanged, Blackbeard would have the last laugh while rolling in his so called grave.

"So what now Hector?" Jack's voice inquired. "You are a former pirate ex-marine returned to said former pirate. I am technically immortal with no ship and no crew and nowhere to go. What is to become of us?"

Barbossa heavily sighed sadly. "Remember when ye told me 'the world is the same size; there's just less in it'?"

"Aye," Jack nodded.

"Didn't quite think what a sad commentary that was until now," admitted Barbossa.

The former pirate ex-marine returned to said former pirate sadly shook his head as he rose upon his foot. Less a human leg and much less a wooden leg, he hopped from his occupied chair over to that table across the room. A bottle and two silver chalices were brought from the bottom drawer.

Jack leaned his head towards the side and narrowed his eyes at the chalices for matters of curiosity. Nope; they were merely plain silver chalices. For a moment there he was a bit worried and excited Barbossa stole _the_ silver chalices.

"You know, we never did get our drink at the Fountain," he noted, speaking his dilemma.

"No, but we can drink now," said Barbossa as he tossed the chalices onto the cot at Jack's feet.

While Jack hunched forward and grasped for the chalices, Barbossa hopped across the room with the bottle. Two normal, silver chalices were filled near to the rim with not rum, but red wine. Seeing it was indeed wine rather than rum, Jack's eyes brightened.

"To us," Barbossa toasted with a dissatisfying amount of enthusiasm.

"To your revenge," Jack toasted with the lack of enthusiasm.

"Ye have a point Jack. Taking this ship may not be a wise choice for revenge," admitted Barbossa.

Jack pointed a finger in motion to wait for his turn to speak, as he was finishing his glass of wine. He wiped his mouth and spoke. "Which is also why I'm not figuring out a way to release the _Pearl_ from the bottle. If one of us gives up rights so that only one of us is technically captain then I'll give her up. Seeing as I won't be the one giving up rights to my ship and neither will you, I'll not give her up."

"But ye still have the bottle and therefore ye have the _Pearl_," noted Barbossa.

"Then I'll throw the bottle into the sea and let Calypso's wrath swirl her among the Seven Seas in a bottle until the ending of time," replied Jack confidently.

"No, ye won't Jack. Ye and I both know you'll figure out how to get the ship out of the bottle change the name and the sails and captain her for the rest of Blackbeard's years," replied Barbossa.

"Oh, I like that!" cried Jack. "Except she stays _Black Pearl_. I won't be changing the name again."

"And when the Navy seizes this _Queen Anne's Revenge_, the next target will be the _Black Pearl_. Jack, ye know they won't stop until they see the _Pearl_ beneath the waves," said Barbossa.

"Then I'll bring her back up from the depths again and with a new name. Fortune has it, I just happened to know the person who has the supernatural mystical means of raising ships from the depths. What I owe him in return can't be all that bad," explained Jack.

"Considering it was ye who dragged him into this mess to begin with and it was by your hand he was made who he is today," said Barbossa nonchalantly while pouring two more glasses of wine.

Taking consideration he did ruin that young man's life years ago, Jack's eyes narrowed as he slumped. "Still, how terrifying can he be when compared to Davy Jones?"

"It is not a comparison to Davy Jones ye should compare him. It should be compared to Angelica when she is terrifying. I was more terrified of Angelica than Jones," said Barbossa with a slight shudder.

Jack waved his hands in front of his face after freeing the wine from the chalice to not spill the liquid in his matters of emphasis. "What do you mean Angelica? She's here on this ship?"

"Aye, I told that to ye earlier," reminded Barbossa. "The two of ye had a past didn't ye Jack? She would not allow one man to come near ye. I soon discovered it was I who she despises most. Not sure what I did to deserve it, as I have no knowledge of her in my past."

"For one, you led to her father's death," said Jack. "Two, I wouldn't want you to come near me either. Thirdly, what do you mean she's here and terrifying when matters involve me?"

"She carried ye here, undressed ye and got ye more comfortable, began watching ye, and then she stormed out quite suddenly and she's been missing since then," Barbossa clarified.

"She undressed me while I was dead to the world? Why does she always have to do these things when I'm not among the land of the lively?" Jack whined to himself.

"I think ye should talk to her Jack; ye probably caused her some matter of grief in the past," suggested Barbossa.

"I'll talk to her all the same after we discuss what is to become of us," Jack told him. "I will not have my ship in your hands again as previously stated."

"And I will be without ship when I sink this one," added Barbossa.

"Then we've come to the conclusion neither shall have a ship," noted Jack. "And before you sink this ship, I'd be much obliged if you drop me and Angelica off in Shipwreck Cove. I'm sure my dear old father will have some piece of advice for my next grand adventure."

"Or he'll skin ye for being an idiot," laughed Barbossa.

"That too," admitted Jack.

"Shipwreck Cove it is then. We'll decide from there," stated Barbossa.

Jack raised a finger. "One more question. I know I was poisoned by your stupid, precious toads, but what happened? Who was the unlucky victim? What happened in that time I was poisoned?"

Shocked to say the least, Barbossa looked at him oddly. "Ye don't remember?"

"Clearly, no," Jack snapped.

"Oh," noted Barbossa as he sat backward in the chair. He cleared his throat and folded his palms together in front of him. "After ye decided to save Angelica's life with the sword going into ye rather than her, she had to make a choice between Blackbeard and Jack Sparrow. Seeing as ye are still breathing and griping as loud as ever, she chose Jack Sparrow with the years of Blackbeard."

Eyes narrowing, Jack breathed through his teeth. "Oh, not good. She sacrifices her own father's life to save my life when before it was saving her father's life with my life. I must have done something good to her. She chose me then huh? And where were you while all of this was taking place. As I lay dying by your death on the pillars of the Fountain of Youth, where were you? Already trekking through the jungle?"

"Beside you," replied Barbossa.

"Hm, and why would I believe that?" wondered Jack.

"Because ye are like a son to me."

Jack shook his head. He stuck his forefingers in his mouth to slicken them with saliva and then proceeded to clean out his ear drums. His torso leaned closer to Barbossa. "Wot did you say?"

"Ye are like a son to me," repeated Barbossa, admitting to that what he swore he never would. "Jack, ye know I only wanted the _Pearl_ to avenge my sister's death."

"And because you're a mutinous, self-righteous, treasure seeking cur," muttered Jack.

"If ye ever noticed, Jack Sparrow, ye are still alive with two maroonings on your résumé and one trip down to Davy Jones' Locker."

"I've noticed."

"It just so happens that I knew that island was a popular stop for those of the rum trading industry lad. I left ye there knowing ye would most likely barter passage off and ye did. To that I applause."

Jack snickered at the mocking applause. He pointed a finger. "Then why is it when I returned you seemed shocked to see me alive?"

"What is the likelihood that we meet after ten years on the same little island? Not likely. And when ye came back that second time, I didn't think it was possible for ye to escape that quickly and make way back."

"The first was me. The latter was by means of sacrificing the rum. I don't see how all this plays to fact that you think of me as some so called son."

"Ye knew Teague and I were accomplices during our age of piracy."

"You mean your younger, less ugly age of piracy."

"Aye Jack, and thank ye I still have me looks."

"Ish."

"As for marooning ye on Tortuga, that again was an obvious choice. Ye have too many relations to that island than any good man should. Aye, we fought like cats and dogs, but ye always felt like ye needed watching over by a close eye. Being abandoned by your very own father at a young age warped the mind."

"Actually, it was the heat and fever is included into that mixture."

"Another reason right there. Ye couldn't go one week without coming down with some sort of cold or cough. There be more times than I'll admit I wondered if ye were going to make it out or not. Too many a time did I catch ye wiping away at those eyes. I saw the tears that were there in them. Ye were lonely and abandoned and needed someone there to care for ye."

"And you did just a marvelous job at that. You so called cared for me and then mutinied me and left me to search for my ship for ten years. Some father you are."

"I had my reasons to take the _Pearl_. Besides, once my worries with ye were out of the way I could work life to my advantage. Though I will not lie to admit I kept a close ear out for ye."

"All right, the Locker. Tell me of that?"

"What of it?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Truthfully, aye. I missed Jack Sparrow something fierce. The world was a little much less bright without him. Always half expected ye to come up to the helm and argue over captaining rights with me. The other half of me expected to look into the rigging or masts and see ye up there staring toward the horizon. Ye know something Jack, I found no greater pleasure in me life than standing on the sidelines of the _Pearl_ watching ye carry about a normal day. There is something about ye that I wish I had the time to produce myself. I did, once, desire to father a child. Piracy and the revenge business drew me away from that fantasy. Having the pleasure of being introduced to a child in his twenties who was as mad as could be, fulfilled one of my life's desires."

"Did you ever catch him?"

"While serving my time in the Navy, I did a little digging into the records. He retired before I got the chance to kill him. Never did find out where he retired to, nor would it have been much matter to me. He's probably long dead by now."

"Still, it's the very idea to look upon the grave of the man who killed your sister that brings a certain satisfaction."

"And how would ye know?"

"That's what I felt when I shot ye dead on Isla de Muerta."

"I appreciate your kind words Jack. Thank you."

"You're welcome and I'll never take them back."

"Ye won't have to because I'm not asking ye to take them back. Taking the _Pearl_ was not wise. I ruined ye more than ye ever did on your own. Leaving ye to fend for yourself for ten years changed ye terribly Jack. Ye weren't the carefree, spirited, playful Sparrow I became Mate under. After our reunion, ye became trapped, dead, worrisome, quiet, frightened with the world, and one of those wings if not both were broken. I hate seeing ye as insecure as ye were. Ye hardly spoke after we rescued ye from the Locker. I was relieved that ye still fought me for the _Pearl_ as tough as ye did. All the short way to Shipwreck Cove, ye barely spoke a word. I would have thought for all certainty ye would have given a grand speech persuading the Pirate Lords to name ye King. After the incident with the changing of hearts and when the Mrs. Turner said her farewells for the day, I noticed ye blinking away those tears in your eyes. Oh, and that night Jack Sparrow was sitting in Shipwreck Cove with his uneasy father keeping a firm arm around him as the young Sparrow wept that—"

"I was not!"

"Ye were too Jack. Ye were crying over Will, being in the Locker, the nightmares, all the feelings mixing up in your head, and ye didn't know what to do with your life anymore. Ye were afraid and the right combinations of ingredients inside ye boiled over."

Jack's demands were simple and to the point. "Don't. Tell. Anyone."

"Have not and will not. And, for the record if ye be keeping one, Jack I wanted Blackbeard dead more for a different reason save me hairy leg. I wanted him dead for what he did to the _Pearl_. Had I wanted him to suffer for the leg then I would have taken his hairy leg from him and let him suffer."

"You avenge the _Pearl_ and in doing so avenge your sister's death?"

"As close as I will to avenging her death. Not bad though ye must admit, Jack. I became a marine, used the license to me own ends, and then stabbed them all in the back and took command of Blackbeard's ship."

"If you're thinking like me then that's a horrible way to seek vengeance."

"I suppose you have a pamphlet on the revenge business as well as escape routes?"

"Nope, I just make it up as I go along and that's what makes Captain Jack Sparrow alive this day. He's far too unpredictable for any measly Royal Navy pet to capture. Send a pirate to kill a pirate."

"I'll drink to that," said Barbossa.

Being reminded there was still half a bottle of wine, Jack softly cried out in joy. He gingerly poured the little amount left in his chalice into the bottle where it came. Bottle and all, he flipped the blanket from his legs and stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me while I ponder your interesting claim to think of me as a son, I am going to find Angelica."

"By all means," said Barbossa.

Jack gave a nod of his head. He headed across the room with all high intentions of leaving Barbossa alone there to rot while he celebrated his living with Angelica. All too soon had he pondered Barbossa's words of thinking of him as a son. Isla de Muerta. Rumrunner's Island. Illness. Revenge on the _Pearl_. Close eyes all his life. There was something he pondered about Barbossa in the beginning of their relationship. He was alive after all, and it was Barbossa who led them to the Locker.

Perhaps Hector Barbossa was onto something there with him being thought of as a son. Since his own father abandoned him and he knew Barbossa didn't take a liking to Teague abandoning him when he was eight, someone else had to take the place of the word "father" in his life for a time. Barbossa happened to settle his past by both using him.

Never one for appreciation of being used, Jack slumped. Being used was one thing, but being used for his own advantage was a thought he couldn't believe he was thinking. He recalled in his younger mind he did seek Barbossa for fatherly advice at times among their never ending war. More of a companion he was than acquaintance. Barbossa was thought of as more family than Gibbs, which was really saying something. The idea that Barbossa's watchful eyes kept him alive was more than his own blood father could say back then. Jack knew he appreciated the eyes keeping out for his wellbeing despite the arguments and consistent bickering.

"All right, damn you, you're right," he announced aloud.

Walking quickly from the room, he did not have to turn his head to realize the smug grin widening across Barbossa's satisfied face. Instead, he pushed passed everyone getting in his way to seek out Angelica. Since he was occupying Blackbeard's own quarters he had a feeling Miss Beard was below in her little hole in the wall.

A short walk and a few swallows of wine later, Jack stood at Angelica's door. "Angelica. It's Jack. Yes, I am alive. I want to speak with you."

"I don't!"

"Oh, good to know you're in there," noted Jack with the bottle to his lips and then drank. "Yes, well I do. Apparently you're more terrifying than Davy Jones and I'd like to see some of this terror."

He paused while waiting for any sign of movement. None. A narrow eye peeked through the hole she left through her wooden door their previously similar situation. He made out a candle in the darkness doing nothing but flickering in the corner closest to the door and a figure against the small window across the room.

"Angelica, I can see you. You're sitting by the window. Now, come, let me in. I want to talk to you. I brought wine," said Jack.

The figure in the window did not move.

Frustrated, Jack's lip curled. He had to set her off with something. She was a ticking bomb. Her ticker was in constant ticking. The bomb occurred when a specific word or phrase ignited the flame and he just happened to know that phrase.

"Angelica, I lied. I did lead Barbossa to your dear old late father Blackbeard, Edward Teach. I wanted my ship," he announced.

Those few words were choice words indeed. A satisfied grin widened across his face as his peeking eye removed itself from the miniature hole in the wall after Angelica stood. He managed a few more swigs of wine and a trimming of his little fingernail.

"Get in here."

Terrifying she sounded, Jack couldn't wait to open the door. His fingers daintily wrapped around the brass knob. With a twist and mechanism of gears whirling, the door opened and he gave a little push.

"AAAHHHHH!"

Less than amused, Jack sighed heavily. A palm pressed against his forehead as his head shook back and forth. Chuckling erupted from his lips. Instead of walking in any further, he leaned to the left side until his left arm and shoulder were supported by the doorframe. His left toe pressed against the ground to the right. Of all things to do before that ticking time bomb known as Angelica, he poured another mouthful of wine into his mouth and then swallowed.

His left forefinger pointed to the sword lodged through his chest. "Angelica, I'm thinking you forgot something if you were trying to kill me. I'm immortal right now remember? It may be a bit trifling difficult to kill me when I have extra years keeping me alive. Drink?"

He extended his right arm out, bottle and all, towards Angelica in friendly gesture. A thoughtful grin widened across his face. Since she did not move toward him any closer than she had while assuming to kill him with a blade through his heart, he shrugged his shoulder and threw his head back for another satisfying mouthful of wine.

* * *

><p><strong>A Note from TurtleHeart:<strong>

**reviews loved and appreciated! thank you! sorry it took so long to update; I got carried away elsewhere.**

**okay, there will be one more chapter with this one all about what is to become between Jack and Angelica seeing as this one was a small "what now?" between Jack and Barbossa.**

**not much to say other than that so you can do the talking. comments? questions? concerns? likes? dislikes? revelations? anything at all? let me know!**

**Happy Readings!**


End file.
